The Henson Journals

[72]

2nd Sunday in Advent, December 9th, 1917.

1224th day

The Prime Minister's letter kept me awake most of the night. To leave this house is an unattractive necessity: to do so in mid–winder under war conditions is truly an odious prospect. Then I am attached to many individuals here, and "cutting the painter" wounds my heart. These, however, are petty considerations. The really serious thing is the perilous leap in the dark to which I am committed by becoming a Bishop. Am I equal to the task on any tolerable interpretation of the office? I attended Mattins and afterwards celebrated the Holy Communion. The Bishop of Jarrow preached on Food Economy from the text: "Lord, evermore give us this bread". At Evensong Headlam preached on, "He that endureth to the end, the same shall be saved". There was a larger congregation than I have yet seen at an afternoon sermon. The suspicion crossed my mind that the townsfolk were divining the probability of Headlam's coming here as my successor, and were offering incense to the new Divinity! Colonel Warre and his wife came to tea. He was in the Retreat from Mons, & is now in charge of a lot of recruits at Middlesborough [sic]. He says that there are very painful collapses, mental and moral, in the young officers who have come through the fearful strain of the War. After dinner I had Harold into my study, & had some talk with him. He is a strange, silent man, to whom War is hateful and repulsive. What exactly is to become of him after the War, I cannot see.

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